Now You're a Writer

... because you know these terms.

Okay, that's not how it works -- but if you know the difference between railroading and zigzagging, not only can you amaze your writing friends, but you can get some pretty good ideas, and just maybe, get yourself out of that jam your novel is stuck in.

Each term links to a thorough definition in Novel Dog.

I created this glossary in my pursuit of the Creative Writing MFA with the Northwest Institute for Literary Arts. May you prosper from the sweat of my academic brow.

Anagnorisis
Antivalidation
Catalyst
Catharsis
Character Story
Circumstantial Summary
Coincidence
Conceit
Crisis
Dénoument
Dianoia
Dramatic Irony
Dramatic Series
Ekphrasis
Envy
Epiphany
Event Story
Expository Lump
False Ending
Flashback
Flat Character
Found Fiction
Fred
Free Indirect Style
Gentle Beginning
Hamartia
High Mimetic
Idea Story
Implied Author
Implied Contract
Inset Narrative
Intense Beginning
Intertextuality
Intrusive Author
Ironic (Mode)
Low Mimetic
Melodrama
Metafiction
Metaphoric Faults
Milieu
Mythic Mode
Narrative
Narrative Hook
Natural Series of Events
Omniscient POV
On-the-Nose Dialogue
Opsis
Parataxis
Pastiche
Pathetic Fallacy
Peripeteia
Plot
Presentation
Prolepsis
Railroad Plot
Railroad Dialogue
Railroading
Representation
Romantic
Round Character
"Save the Cat" Scene
Sequential Summary
Sequential Suspension of Disbelief
Single Character Objective
Single Character Subjective
Skaz
Story
Stream of Consciousness
Situational Irony
Summary Scene
Symbol
Synecdoche
Tone
Validation
Vase/Faces Plot
Window Metaphor
Yin-Yang Complexity
Zigzagging

Writing a Novel is Like Solitaire

Writing a novel is like playing solitaire. There are many different paths to take. Lots of different directions you can go. And for a while, they all seem like they’re working—the cards are lining up, the plot is moving along. But suddenly, you’re stuck! In older versions of Windows computer solitaire, you’ve got one chance for an undo; one opportunity to erase the last mistake and try again. In VISTA and newer versions, you can undo as many times as you like! Rewriting is our undo for novels. There is always a chance to fix what isn’t working.

The way to win solitaire is to take the steps that lead you to success. Not just the steps that are easy and quick and produce instant results. You don’t have to take a move—even if it’s there. You don’t have to send your draft novel out to agents and editors just because it’s written. In solitaire, if you chose the moves that get the low cards up early, you ‘re more likely to succeed. And you must look ahead several moves to make sure the current move isn’t going to box you in. Thinking your novel through before you take off can save having to undo. Having a full plot outline would be great, but as long as you have a plan, a vision for the finished work, you can take steps in the right direction and save major structure revisions. Pausing with a finished product, stepping back and looking at it again later with fresh eyes will save you time and energy spent on sending out a manuscript that isn’t ready yet.

I think all this can be said about life too. I wish the right paths in life were easy to see. Wouldn’t it be great if we had a free undo! I’d like to go back and undo a few things I’ve done, after knowing the result. Time to start rewriting my life—and my novel!

Leslie Adkins

What makes a story, a story? Flash Fiction has gained a lot of popularity lately. I once took a workshop where we wrote several different kinds of VERY short stories. Here’s one that had to be 69 words:

If you eat breakfast your day will be better. Are you kidding?

Nine-am. I was already exhausted. My son threw up on me. The car quit blocks from daycare.

Would a bagel make it all better?

Shoes – soaked.

Nylons – run.

Shirt – sweat-stained.

I sighed and stepped behind the counter. A customer approached. “How may I help you?”

“Can you direct me to a place with a really good breakfast?”

I like this, but is it a story? There is some character, very little setting, some conflict… Here’s one that had to be the personification of an object:

There was no X marking The Spot, but its color and size called attention to it just the same. The Spot put up with people gawking and their often curious or rude comments. It couldn’t help where it was, right there in the center of the living room. There for all to see.

Right after it appeared, birthed suddenly on a rainy fall day, there was much discussion by the woman of removing it. The Spot cringed and tried to shrink back when someone approached with their “sure fire” remedy for spot removal. Oh, the scrubbing, the spraying, the dousing with water, vinegar, and chemicals!

But The Spot hung on, gripping the carpet fibers, refusing to be removed. Refusing to let her forget. For it knew it had a purpose, a reason for being beyond being an object of discussion for visitors.

For awhile, the woman who owned the home had placed a round rug over the spot. A scratchy, wool thing. But because of its prominent location in the traffic patter, the rug caused more accidents than were acceptable. And she really didn’t need another accident.

More than a year passed and The Spot felt time creeping up on it. Age caused its color to fade and be less noticeable to the occupant. One day, a new woman came in and glared at the spot, her nose scrunched in disgust. “What is that?” the visitor asked.

“Just a spot,” the woman said.

“Is it wine? Did you try to remove it?”

The woman shrugged. “I’ve tried everything.”

“Catsup? Kool-Aid?”

The woman just shook her head.

“We’ll have to negotiate a carpet allowance. It will all have to be replaced,” the visitor proclaimed.

The woman nodded eagerly. She would be happy to sell the home and rid herself of the memories, excise the evidence.

The Spot wished it could wiggle and squirm or cry out—“I have a story to tell!”

But it was still, waiting, hoping someone would look closely. Someone would care enough to wonder about its history—its story to tell.

A story of anger and pain.

And murder.

What really makes a story? Can you really write a story with less than 1,000 words? What do you think?